


Neal Caffrey Loved Sex

by My_Alter_Ego



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Distrust, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escape, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:17:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just what it says on the tin with a hint of a plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neal Caffrey Loved Sex

     Neal Caffrey loved sex—in any way, shape or form. His rather healthy libido had started to develop at a young age when he figured out that he possessed something different from the little girls in pre-school who sat down rather than stood when they had to pee. He developed a fascination with his penis, and found that masturbation was quite pleasurable. That was all that comprised his sex life until he managed to caress a classmate’s budding breasts at the tender age of twelve. By fourteen, a precocious, nubile young siren initiated him into the wonders of her vagina, and all the mysterious things that he could do with it. By fifteen, he was an accomplished sexual partner to others—usually experienced high school cheerleaders, although eventually he had added the future valedictorian to his list of conquests.

     When Neal left home at eighteen to seek his fortune in the Big Apple, he discovered that his good looks were like a magnet that drew admiring and covetous glances from the fair sex. He was still working on his charm at the time. However, he did have the street smarts to frequent bars near Broadway where aspiring young, wanna-be starlets spent their evenings after grueling auditions for parts on the Great White Way. He perfected his sexual prowess and nobody ever had reason to complain about his technique.

     His pretty looks and slim, athletic build, also gleaned him advances from some very hot guys, so Neal decided to expand his horizons. He wanted to experience everything that life had to offer, therefore why not take the plunge, at least once. He found the experience just as satisfying and enjoyable. So, Neal’s sex life became flexible. He really didn’t think of it as a love life, because even though he couldn’t put his finger on it, he was sure that he didn’t feel that emotion for any of his partners. Sure, Neal admired and liked them a lot, but there was no spark that suddenly burst into a roaring flame. Sometimes, the young man wondered what was wrong with him. That is, until Kate Munroe appeared on the scene.

     When Kate entered Neal’s orbit, that elusive flame became a bonfire, and the two spent as much time in bed as out of it. Neal loved the lush softness of her skin, her intoxicating smell, and her taste after he had aroused her to climax. She called him her magnificent cocksman, and eagerly responded to his tantalizing touch and to his prick, no matter where he placed it on or in her body. Of course, they experienced the rough patches that every relationship endures, but, even apart, he was always faithful. The make-up sex was always stupendously heart stopping.

     When Neal eventually had to pay the piper for his dalliance outside the law, Kate vowed that she would wait for him. Almost four years seemed like a lifetime to the young convict, but he believed in Kate’s vow of fidelity. For his part, Neal initially had to fend off sexual advances from some of his hungry-looking cellmates. He did it with a rabid intensity that had even hardened criminals smirking at his impudence. To the would-be rapists, he resembled a little bantam rooster ready to take on one and all in a fight to the death, and they decided that a trip to solitary wasn’t worth a quick molestation and a fuck.

     Of course, just like always, Fate screwed with Neal’s dreams. Kate needed him in the worst way, and being behind bars put a crimp in his plans to keep her safe. Fast-forward ahead to a jailbreak, a re-capture, and a re-confinement. Still farther ahead in the tape, see Neal and Peter Burke as partners. Neal thought that manipulating Peter Burke would be a piece of cake, but imagine his surprise when the FBI agent morphed into an astute and formidable owner who held his leash in an iron grip.

     Peter Burke was a true puzzle. Sometimes, Neal would surreptitiously study the older man and wonder how he had managed to win the affections of the beautiful Mrs. Burke. Elizabeth’s attributes were self-evident; Peter’s allure, not so much. Sometimes, to take his mind off other matters, Neal would try to visualize Peter making love to Elizabeth. He wondered if their sex life was kinky or strictly vanilla in bed. Eventually, Neal began to admit to himself that there was a certain appeal to Peter’s gruffness and his steadiness, and postulated that still waters ran deep. Nonetheless, Neal was not tempted to delve any deeper because Kate was his only priority right now. Then, the unimaginable happened, and Neal’s world came apart.

     After the planet had stopped spinning out of control, Peter temporarily shelved the hard-assed, suspicious, federal watchdog routine, and was actually solicitous and fumblingly gentle toward his charge. He insisted on dragging Neal home for El’s home-cooked dinners, and filling his weekends with trips that were outside of his radius. The distraught con man was barely holding it together, so it really was not surprising, after too much wine one night, that he allowed Elizabeth to hold him in her arms when his tears were just a wink away from escaping his tightly closed eyes. What was truly surreal was then feeling Peter’s hand slide up and down his back in a decidedly sensual massage. The evening concluded with Elizabeth’s soft kiss to his lips and Peter’s warm hand caressing his neck.

    “Another time when you’re ready and not grieving,” Peter whispered in his ear. Was that a promise or an invitation, Neal wondered.

     It would seem that it was both. Some months later, he diffidently followed Peter and El up that flight of stairs that led to the most intimate room in the small house. Their first time together was tender and slow—there was no hungry, impatient tearing of clothes, biting, clawing, or rutting like a satyr. It all seemed to take place in slow motion, with El offering her breasts and sumptuous thighs to a starving man while Peter smiled and looked on benignly. Neal pleasured this remarkable woman until she climaxed, pulling away after the spasms around his cock subsided. To his surprise, she dragged him back into her depths.

     When she whispered, “Finish,” Neal looked to Peter who nodded. A few fevered strokes later, Neal spewed into El with a shout before collapsing down on his elbows to keep his weight from crushing her. Peter then made his presence known. He nudged Neal to the side and slid his own turgid and straining erection into his wife’s cum-filled vagina. Neal lay back and watched the play of muscles that rippled across Peter’s back and the intense flush on his contorted features. The slap of husband and wife’s sweaty bodies was like an aphrodisiac for the con man, who, unbelievably, felt stirring in his groin again. In a matter of minutes, he witnessed his mentor come with pants and swear words that Neal had never heard him use before. Then Peter, too, collapsed in a heap on the bed, but not before a roving hand came up to cup Neal’s face.

     “Next time,” Peter murmured enticingly, and Neal wondered exactly what that meant.

     It signified many more nights in that bed with two people who indulged him and made him feel loved. El liked to tease Neal into a fevered state, then sit astride and ride her stallion. In that position she could rub her clitoris against his pubis and become even more sexually aroused as he sucked and bit her nipples. Peter liked to watch, but he was becoming bolder in his touches and ministrations to Neal’s body. Neal had eagerly given Peter blowjobs, which were avidly reciprocated, but eventually Peter’s fingers, copiously lubed, began to explore between Neal’s buttocks.

     “You can fuck me if you want, Peter,” Neal whispered one night.

     Apparently, Peter Burke was not all white bread and, somewhere along the line, had amassed a wealth of experience outside the heterosexual realm. He slowly began the process of stretching Neal’s hole, one finger at a time, until two could comfortably breach the orifice. Then he massaged Neal’s prostate until the young man was gasping and straining. When Peter withdrew his fingers, Neal felt empty and bereft. He needed Peter to fill him up again, so he arched his hot body into the older man’s.

     “You sure?” Peter said gruffly.

     “Don’t stop now,” Neal begged.

     So, with a determined effort, Peter’s cock replaced where his fingers had been. He rocked in and out tentatively at first, but when Neal opened to him, he began to pump in earnest. They swayed back and forth, face to face, caught up in a primal rhythm. Peter had Neal’s wrists pinned to the bed beside his head, and the younger man reveled in feeling possessed by his keeper. His keening spurred Peter to a greater intensity, and the world around them faded away for a little while. The pace reached a crescendo for each man almost simultaneously, and Peter collapsed down beside Neal and fought to catch his breath while Neal did the same.

     Eventually, the room once again came into focus, with El smiling and whispering, “That was truly amazing!”

     So, they repeated the performance for her a bit later, but this time Peter entered Neal from behind while El took Neal in her mouth and did wondrous things with her tongue. It seemed that they couldn’t get enough of one another, so the next morning it became a true threesome. While Neal fucked El’s vagina, Peter again fucked Neal from behind. Neal wondered if a person could experience brain damage from over-the-top sexual stimulation. Maybe becoming a moronic idiot was the way to go!

     Then one day, out of the blue, Sara Ellis swanned back into Neal’s life again, and things progressed quickly. Both of the Burke’s prudently backed off, instinctively knowing that Neal was having a hard time with a dichotomy of the soul. Once again, Neal became a one-woman man, although, as weird as it seemed, he really missed Peter. The liaison with the red-headed insurance investigator was short-lived because another crisis loomed on the horizon. An archaic Nazi treasure sent Sara hurrying away and Peter, suspicious and vindictive, to his doorstep.

     Peter warned, “If you’re going to fuck with me, Neal, then you are going to get fucked as well.”

     Gone was the ardent yet respectful lover. In his place was a harsh, sometimes almost brutal partner who plunged into Neal with abandon. If Neal cried out in pain, it seemed to spur Peter on to even greater lengths of abuse. Neal thought that he, himself, was depraved, because the fiercer Peter became, the more Neal relished feeling dominated and hurt. His climaxes soared off the scale.

     However, it all came to a head when Neal’s duplicitousness caused Elizabeth to be placed in peril. He couldn’t help Peter fast enough to secure her release from Matthew Keller. She had to accomplish that herself. There was a temporary reconciliation between Neal and the Burkes, but it was never quite the same because it was now tainted. Neal blamed himself for de-railing his own future yet again.

     There followed but a brief respite from his leash to a tropical island, and then, like déjà vu—he was back on the anklet again and embarking on another crusade to unravel his past. Despite his best intentions, that imploded, and the fall-out blew back on Peter. Neal tried to fix it but, instead, made it worse. He had not only alienated Peter; now Elizabeth no longer looked at him fondly, but instead dictated that Neal had to do a better job of watching Peter’s back.

     By this point in time, Neal was truly ostracized and lonely. Like a resentful child, he took to frequenting singles bars and bringing home eager young ladies. Sometimes, handsome young men also stepped over the threshold of his loft with the stunning view. Neal knew that Peter checked his anklet history compulsively. Neal would not have been surprised if Peter had shadowed him on some of his nightly forays. The dejected con man could only hope that Peter was gnashing his teeth at Neal’s brash behavior—too bad that he couldn’t do anything about it. After all, Neal was within his radius and not breaking the law. Instead, Peter favored him with glowering stares, but at least he had stopped his impromptu visits.

     Eventually, Neal’s quest for love took him into the arms of a psychotic killer, and it was then that Peter stepped in. He appeared one night in Neal’s apartment, but instead of berating his charge or sexually badgering him, he took the young man in his arms and pleaded, “Please stop, Neal.”

     For a brief instant, Neal harbored a yearning hope that things would return to normal between himself and the Burkes. Then he became aware that Elizabeth was pregnant, and that changed everything. Peter and Elizabeth were a unit—a family—a tightly closed circle that he could not, and must not break. As before in his life, he was left out in the cold.

     Somehow, some way, Neal had to find his own happiness. He examined the “who” and the “why” of what he was and had become. Neal realized that he didn’t mind being subservient in the sexual arena, but he was tired of kowtowing to a system that manipulated and used him, trying to beat him into submission. It was time to make a change.

     Neal managed to pull it off with daring panache, and reveled in his newfound freedom in Paris. This was now going to be a fresh start, the dawn of a new life away from all the people pulling his strings, away from the people who made him feel guilty, and who diminished his self-worth. He was going to be happy, damn it!

     He tried, he really did, to put the past decade and all of the memories behind him. But there was a void within him that nothing seemed to fill. Yes, he missed the electric energy of New York, his eccentric little sidekick, and his beautifully elegant landlady. He missed being challenged by other criminals and their daring exploits which he always managed to foil. He missed all of that, but he could have endured if his dreams weren’t continually plagued by a tall, broad-shouldered older man who could be tender or demanding, loving or disapproving, funny or sarcastic. Neal knew that he was so messed up!

     Nonetheless, one day he threw caution to the wind and set the wheels in motion to give Peter a hint—a hint that, hopefully, was enticing enough that the agent just might materialize one day along the Seine. Neal could only keep the faith and wait.      


End file.
